


Deeply Loved

by emn1936



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Battle, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1772926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emn1936/pseuds/emn1936
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin hunkered down beside her and pressed the tips of his fingers against the pulse point in the pirate’s neck. Lifting his gaze to the others, he gave a mournful shake of his head.    </p>
<p>“Nooo,” Emma keened and rocking forward, she pressed her ear over the finger-shaped bruises covering Hook’s bare chest, frantically listening for the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing a "what-if" game in my head - what if Emma still had her powers when they confronted Zelena in that barn? I've lifted some of the dialogue and moved it around.
> 
> Disclaimer: OUAT is the sole property of ABC, Disney Edward Kitsis, Adam Horowitz and the actors who breathe new life into these timeless characters.

Deeply Loved

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” – Lao Tsu

 

“This isn’t over yet.”

They strode through the open door of the barn – the prince, the witch, the thief, the savior and pirate. Five disparate people united in one goal.

“And who is going to stop me?”

Zelena’s lips curled in a feral smile as she cast her gaze over her sister and her companions.

“Certainly not the savior.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed and she took a step forward.

“Next time you try to take my power, why don’t you try enchanting the lips of someone I’ll actually kiss,” she sneered, bravado masking the fear churning in the pit of her stomach.

Enjoying the repartee, Zelena let out a low chuckle.

“See Emma, you’ve got a decision to make.” Her voice oozed with false sympathy. “You can keep your magic which makes you oh, so sad or you can save the man that you can’t wait to run away from.”

She gave the dagger in her hand a barely perceptible flick.

“Rumple?”

The Dark One waved a hand and Killian flew through the air, sprawling at the feet of the fiery-haired witch.

“Come now, my dear.”

A crook of her fingers had the pirate shooting upright, the cutlass in his hand clattering to the floor at his feet.

Zelena sidled alongside him, one hand burying itself in his thick hair. She yanked hard, pressing the blade of the dagger against his exposed throat.

“Such pretty lips,” she sighed. “And so wasted.  Tell me, Captain. Why haven’t you used those luscious lips and kissed Emma?”

“Well, a fellow likes to be courted,” Killian snarled with mocking insolence.

Entertained, Zelena arched an amused brow while the fingers snarled in his hair tightened in a painful warning.

“I gave you one task,” she purred near his ear. “And you failed me.”

Her smile grew cagey as she returned her gaze to the others.

“Of course, he must be punished,” she said in a tone frightening in its reasonableness.  “But how?” She tapped the flat of the blade against his chest as she considered her options.

“Perhaps,” she mused, “I should allow Rumple to finish the job he started all those years ago by allowing him to remove your other hand.  Hmmm? Then we could ship you off to a faraway realm where you, the once proud pirate captain, would be reduced to begging for a crust of bread or for someone to show mercy and put you out of your misery.”

Delighted at the image, she giggled.

“Then again…”

She switched the dagger to her other hand and spread her fingers over his chest.

“He is rather pretty.”

Zelena stared directly at Emma as she spoke. “Perhaps I should make him my pet.”

Her red-lacquered nails glittered like droplets of blood as she combed her fingers through the dark hair sprinkled over his chest. Casting a suggestive smile toward Emma, she scraped her teeth over the corded tendon standing out in stark relief along the side of Hook’s arched throat reveling in the shudder that rippled through his frame as her tongue retraced the path. She sucked the tip of his ear into her mouth, releasing it with an audible pop and a leering smile.

“Or maybe I should just rip out his heart and crush it.”

Killian let out a pained gasp as she pressed her fingertips hard into his flesh.

“Stop!”

Emma took a panicked step forward.

“Just let him go.”

Zelena’s pleased sigh wafted hotly against Killian’s cheek.

“Emma,” he gritted painfully. “Don’t. You can’t!”

“One little kiss,” Zelena sing-songed as she urged the blonde nearer.

“Emma.”

Emma turned toward the sound of her father’s voice.

“David, I can’t let her –”

“She’ll kill him anyway,” Regina said in low-voiced warning. “She’ll kill us all if we don’t stop her now.”

“So we’ll find another way,” Emma said desperately.

A choked cry of pain escaped Killian and Emma’s head whipped toward him again to see the witch’s fingers pierce through the skin of his chest.

“Killian!”

Her panicked cry echoed off the walls of the barn.

Killian saw the look on her face as she took another step toward him and he knew he could not allow her to sacrifice her gift for him. That path led to her death and he would not tolerate another woman he loved dying because of him. Turning his head slightly toward his captor, he saw that her attention was focused raptly on Emma.

Summoning all of his strength and courage, he raised his hooked hand and snarled it in the red locks tumbling onto Zelena’s shoulders. Startled, she turned her face toward his and before she could react, he sprang forward pressing his mouth hard against the witch’s in a macabre mockery of a kiss.

Heat pulsed between them, burning his lips and still he held on determinedly.  Zelena gasped against his mouth, struggling to free herself, her fingers clawing deeper into his chest. The pain was agonizing and he felt consciousness slipping away as the heat between their lips flared, burning hotter and hotter until he thought surely it would incinerate them both.

A sudden explosion of green light tore them apart. Killian flew through the air, his body slamming into a support beam with a sickening thud before tumbling to the floor in a boneless heap.

Zelena stumbled back, blinking dazedly. The pirate’s cursed kiss had weakened her and Emma pounced.

Closing her eyes, Emma stretched out her hands, willing her power to her fingertips. She labored to channel her magic but her focus was split as part of it rested on Hook’s crumpled and frighteningly still form.

Zelena shook her head to clear it and painfully drew herself erect.

“Beautiful ones,” she gasped, and two of the winged monkeys flew down from the rafters to engage the others.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she ordered and the Dark One stepped forward, reluctantly adding his power to hers.

“Get the dagger,” he gritted between clenched teeth, “and the Dark One will be on your side.”

“Easier said than done,” Emma muttered. She could feel her power wavering under the twin onslaughts of their dark magic.

“Regina…” Emma’s eyes widened as a wild solution popped into her head. “Help me.”

“I – I can’t,” Regina’s frustration was evident. “I don’t know how.”          

“She’s right.” Zelena laughed triumphantly as she felt the weakness diminish and her power surge back to full strength. “Only light magic can defeat me and my dear sister is as dark as they come.”

Emma’s entire body trembled as she fought to repel the dark magic streaming from the witch’s fingertips.

“Regina,” she whispered. “Please. When you kissed Henry and broke the curse… that was light magic. You have it within you.”

Robin stealthily angled around the combatants and lowered himself into a crouch. Standing, he moved into Regina’s line of sight.

“Emma is right.” He held up the glowing red heart now cradled in his hand. “Light magic is borne of love. I know you can do this.” His voice rang with his confidence in her and the promise of a future together if they made it out of this place alive.

Pressing a fist against her churning stomach, Regina shouldered up next to Emma. Closing her eyes, she called up the image of Henry flinging himself into her arms at the moment of their joyful reunion and allowed herself to recall the feel of Robin’s lips pressed to hers.

Reaching out with one hand, she groped for Emma’s and twined their fingers together.

Powerful light magic arced out to meet dark and the walls trembled as a terrible war was waged. A howling wind swirled through the barn causing the others to stumble and stagger as they struggled to stay on their feet but the four combatants barely moved.

Emma and Regina reached deep within themselves, dredging up memories of the greatest loves they had known in their lives; allowing the joy of those memories to overwhelm all of the dark and terrible moments of their pasts. In a moment of blinding clarity, they moved as if sharing one mind and flung their joined hands toward their enemy.

A howling, piercing scream tore from Zelena’s throat as light magic engulfed her, detonating around her like a silent bomb. Tossed to the ground in a humiliating heap, the dagger tumbled from her hand and Regina sprang forward to snatch the jewel from around the other woman’s neck.

 Pushing her face into her older sister’s Regina lowered her voice.

“You failed, Zelena. You’re not going back in time. You’re going nowhere.”

David leaped toward the basket on the floor and carefully lifted his newborn son from its depths.

“David?” Emma gasped. “The baby.  Is he okay?”

Rising to his feet, her father nodded and sent her a grateful smile.

Emma scrubbed trembling hands over her face and then whirled, racing across the floor to where Hook lay.

“Hook!” she cried as she dropped to her knees. “Hook, wake up!” She laid a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. “Killian. Killian, come back to me.”

She sensed the others gathering about them but her attention was fixated squarely on Killian’s unmoving form. Bending over him, she called out to him again.

“Please, Killian,” she murmured brokenly. “Come back to me.”

Robin hunkered down beside her and pressed the tips of his fingers against the pulse point in the pirate’s neck. Lifting his gaze to the others, he gave a mournful shake of his head.

“Nooo,” Emma keened and rocking forward, she pressed her ear over the finger-shaped bruises covering Hook’s bare chest, frantically listening for the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.

“You promised never to give up,” she moaned softly when only a painful silence greeted her.

Tears welling in her eyes, she lifted her head from his still chest. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she pushed a tumbled lock of hair away from his forehead, wincing as her fingers encountered sticky blood matting his dark hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Staring into his peaceful and quiet face through a veil of tears, she pressed her mouth to his blistered lips in a lingering farewell.

“Emma.”

She turned blindly toward the sound of David’s voice and found him kneeling beside her. Burying her hot, tear-streaked face against her father’s shoulder, she struggled to block out all the other sounds around her as she focused on David’s murmured reassurances and the soothing gurgles of her newborn brother.

Wilting into her father’s protective embrace, she drifted in a fog of exhaustion, oblivious to the sudden stiffening of his arms and his sharp inhalation of breath.

“Emma. Emma!”

Her father’s insistent calling of her name pierced through the veil of fatigue and she reluctantly lifted her head from his shoulder.

“Emma,” he whispered, and touching two fingers to her chin, he gently forced her to turn her head toward the place where Hook lay.

A fearsome trembling overtook her as she saw Killian’s fingers twitch and then a pained grimace furrowed his brow.

A chill raced down her spine.

“How… I don’t – Magic?” she asked through chattering teeth.

“There’s only one type of magic I know of that can bring someone back from death,” Regina murmured in voice rife with disbelief.

“I don’t understand.” Emma twisted her fingers into her father’s shirt.

David tenderly pushed tangled strands of hair away from her tear-stained face.

“It was your _kiss_ , Emma.” A gentle smile tipped up the corners of his mouth.

She shook her head back and forth in vehement repudiation of the knowing expression on the prince’s face.

“No,” she breathed as panic welled up within her. “No. No.”

A soft groan broke through her building anxiety and she scrambled to the pirate’s side.

Leaning close, she dragged her fingers through her hair, shoving it behind her ears.

“Hook,” she whispered. “Killian.”

Suddenly he gasped, his back arching as a return to consciousness and pain roared through his body. His lungs went into spasm from the sudden influx of air. He coughed violently, tears of pain leaking from the corners of his eyes.

At last the spasm passed and he sank back down. Exhausted, he flung an arm over his brow as a parade of images flashed across his mind’s eye – the witch’s taunts, the terror in Emma’s eyes, the burning pain of Zelena’s lips against his own and the searing, blistering agony which had coursed through his body.

Dragging his eyes open, the only thing he saw was Emma. Her cheeks were stained with tear tracks, her expression filled with anguish and fear. A horrible dread rose within him as he watched her press trembling fingers to her mouth.

“Swan,” he panted. “What did you do?”

Wild-eyed, his gaze darted from the stunned expressions on the others’ faces and then back to the dazed look on hers.

“What did you do?” he demanded. Arching off the floor, he curled his fingers into the lapel of her coat. Agonizing pain lanced through him at the suddenness of his movements and he cried out, rolling onto his side and curling in on himself.

“Emma, my god. What did you do?” he asked fearfully before slipping back into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.


	2. Two

Chapter Two

 

“Hook!”

Emma fisted her hands around his coat and gave him a violent shake.

“Come on, Killian. Wake up!”

“Emma. Stop.” David laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “We need to get him to the hospital.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Yeah. Okay.”

Robin rose from his crouch and directed his attention across the room.

“Little John?”

The large man turned from where he towered over Zelena, a sword tipped menacingly toward the defeated witch.

“Give us a hand, won’t you?” Robin tilted his head toward the fallen pirate.

Emma followed closely as John carried Killian outside. She scrambled into the bed of the truck and helped ease the injured man into the back, wishing she had a blanket to protect him from the unyieldingly cold and hard metal.

“Emma.”

Impatient to get moving, she swung her gaze toward David.

“I can’t drive like this.” He gestured toward the baby in his arms. “You have to take him from me.”

“Come, lass.” John held out a big hand toward her. “I’ll keep watch over the pirate. You take the babe.”

She stroked her knuckles over Killian’s cheek before placing her fingers into John’s outstretched hand. Hopping to the ground, she climbed into the passenger seat before taking the baby from her father and immediately twisted in her seat, craning her head to keep an eye on Hook. John looked up and caught her eye with a reassuring smile.

As they finally got under way, she was dimly aware of Zelena being escorted from the barn by Regina and Robin. Hatred swelled within her and she trembled with the urge to gather all of her magic into a ball and fling it toward the defeated witch but the baby shifted in her arms, one tiny hand stretching toward her, and the weight of that hatred collapsed in on itself, leaving her spent and shaken.

David drove quickly but cautiously and in no time they arrived at the hospital.

Emma leaped from the truck and by the time she rounded the back, John had lowered the tail gate and he and David carefully maneuvered Hook’s body from the truck. Clutching the baby close, Emma followed the men into the emergency room entrance. A nurse hurried toward them and Emma was distantly aware of a disembodied voice paging Dr. Whale as John and David eased Hook onto a waiting gurney.

“Emma…”

She turned at the sound of her father’s voice.

“Go.” She handed the baby to him. “Mary Margaret must be in agony. Don’t make her wait any longer.”

“I’ll be back to check on you.” David brushed a kiss over her cheek before hurrying off to his frantically waiting wife.

Emma blew out a shaky breath as she watched her father walk away, and then pushed through the doors behind which Hook had disappeared in a swarm of medical personnel.

A sense of urgent competency filled the room. Emma winced to imagine Hook’s reaction as a nurse wielding a large pair of medical scissors sliced through his clothing, black leather yielding and parting beneath the sharp blades.

A thin sheet was draped modestly over his midsection as other medical personnel crowded about checking his vitals. An oxygen cannula was carefully inserted into his nostrils, rubber straps fitted behind his ears to secure it in place and sticky-backed electrodes were strategically placed on his chest, ribs and forearms. The EKG equipment whirred to life as the leads were attached.

“There,” Dr. Whale pointed as a sheet of paper spat forth from the machine. Looking up, Whale pinned Emma beneath his gaze.

“What happened?” he demanded.

 “Zelena,” she murmured without tearing her eyes from Hook’s motionless form. “Zelena happened.”

“Emma. Come on. I need information,” the doctor pushed.

“I…” She shook her head to clear it.

“Zelena… there was a confrontation.”

“And?” Whale prompted impatiently.

“And I don’t know!” she shouted. Scrubbing her hands over her face, she hid behind her fingertips.

“I’m not sure exactly what happened,” she murmured from behind her hands.  “There was a light – almost like a small explosion and then, and then Killian went flying across the room…”

She shuddered as the sickening sound of Killian’s body slamming into the support beam played in her head.

“Emma.” Whale laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Some major event happened _after_ that.”

He held up his other hand and shook the printout from the EKG under her nose.  “What was it?”

“I don’t… I don’t know what you want,” she gasped.

“Did he stop breathing?” Whale demanded. “Did he have a pulse?”

“I… no. He wasn’t breathing and we couldn’t find a pulse.”

“And then what?” Whale persisted.

Emma shook her head in a daze, her gaze distantly locked on the controlled chaos surrounding Killian as she remembered the paralyzing fear that had gripped her when she realized that he wasn’t breathing.

“Emma!” Whale’s voice cracked sharply. “What. Happened. Then?”

“I kissed him!” The words seemed to be torn from her throat. “He… he died! And I kissed him. And now he’s… now he’s _not_ dead –”

She gestured impotently toward Killian and feeling a hysterical giggle bubble up in her throat, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Alright.” Whale’s hands tightened sympathetically on her shoulders. “We’ve got a battery of tests to run,” he told her. “Why don’t you wait with your family until we’re done?”

“No,” she objected. “I –”

“Wait with your family,” he repeated. “I’ll come find you when we have some news.”

He signaled to a nurse who came over to lead a protesting Emma from the room. Finding herself in the hall with the door to the treatment room firmly closed behind her, she went in search of her family.

She found them in Mary Margaret’s room. The baby, wearing only an impossibly tiny diaper, was lying in the center of the bed. His parents were bent over him, raptly counting fingers and toes, their hands flitting over him as if needing tangible proof that he was real; that he was safe.

“Emma!”

Mary Margaret’s hands stretched toward her daughter and Emma stumbled forward to fall into her parents’ waiting embrace.

“Oh, honey,” Mary Margaret whispered into her daughter’s hair. “How is he?”

“I don’t know,” Emma choked, burying her wet face into her mother’s neck.

At his wife’s look, David scooped the baby into his arms as Mary Margaret pulled her daughter more comfortably onto the bed.

“Shh.” Murmuring soothing nonsensical sounds, Mary Margaret stroked her hands over Emma’s hair and back.

“Everything is going to be alright.”

/////

Emma sat quietly in a chair cradling her newborn brother in her arms, allowing his snorting gurgles to soothe her frayed nerves as the confrontation with Zelena played over and over in her mind’s eye.

Springing to her feet at the sight of Dr. Whale poking his head into the room, she startled a snuffling whimper from the baby.

Whale took the baby from Emma’s unresisting arms and laid him in the nearby bassinette.

“Let’s take a look,” he said as he unswaddled the baby. Slipping the stethoscope from around his neck, he fit the tips into his ears and listened to the baby’s heart.

“Another doctor was in earlier,” Mary Margaret announced. “She said everything seemed fine.” She looked anxiously at the doctor for confirmation.

Whale played with the baby’s limbs, manipulating his arms and legs, flicked a penlight into the milky blue eyes and listened to his breathing before flipping open a medical chart and skimming over the information listed.

“Apgar looks good.” He glanced up with a smile. “He’s had quite an adventurous introduction into this world but he’s a strong and healthy little guy.”

Mary Margaret and David exchanged relieved smiles and she held out her hands to take her son from the doctor.

“How’s Hook?” Emma blurted anxiously.

“Better.” Whale sank tiredly into a nearby chair. “He has a concussion, a couple of fractured ribs, more bruises than I care to count and a partially dislocated shoulder, but his vitals are improving and he was awake for a while and responsive.

“So, he’s going to be alright?” David asked and the doctor gave a cautious nod of agreement.

“You mentioned something about an explosive flash, Emma. Right?”

“Yeah. It sent Killian flying through the air.”

“What else can you tell me about it?”

David saw the helpless expression on his daughter’s weary face and began to speak, describing in detail the events which had taken place in the barn earlier that day.

“So Hook was in physical contact with the witch,” Whale clarified. “That might help to explain it,” he mused to himself.

“Explain what?” Mary Margaret inquired.

“Some of Hook’s complaints are presenting in a similar manner to a victim of a lightning strike.”

“How so?” A puzzled frown wrinkled David’s forehead.

“Headache, dizziness. He’s nauseous – can’t even keep down a few sips of water. We’ve got him on IV fluids for now. He also seems to be suffering from a ringing in his ears and some memory loss.”

“He has amnesia?” Emma asked disbelievingly.

“No,” the doctor waved away that concern. “More like short term memory loss. He’s a little fuzzy on what happened today.

“You said he had a concussion,” Mary Margaret pointed out. “Aren’t all those symptoms consistent with a head injury?”

“They are,” Whale agreed. “But he’s also presenting with signs of neuromuscular pain and hypoxemia.”

Emma sliced a hand sharply through the air above her head to indicate her complete lack of understanding of the diagnosis.

Whale huffed out a short laugh.

“He has low blood oxygen,” he explained simply. “His cells – his tissues – have a low oxygen content and he’s suffering from some breathlessness as a result.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” David commented worriedly.

“We’ve got him on oxygen and that should help.”

Whale rose to his feet and rubbed a tired hand over the back of his neck.

“We’re going to keep him in ICU overnight and then if things look good in the morning, we’ll move him to a regular room. I want to keep an eye on him for the next couple of days to be sure that the bulk of these symptoms start to abate. An electrical charge like the one you describe can wreak havoc on the cardiovascular system.”

Emma pressed the tips of her fingers over her mouth to stifle a frightened gasp.

“I see no signs of any damage to the heart or lungs,” Whale emphasized calmly. “But I don’t want to let him go until we run a few more tests and until we know we have the hypoxia under control.”

He drummed his fingers against the metal cover of the chart in his hands.

“We’re giving him something to manage the pain through the IV,” he explained.  “He’s knocked out as a result and I don’t expect him to wake up for more than a few seconds at a time tonight. Why don’t you folks get some rest? I’ll check in on you and the baby tomorrow, Mary Margaret, and I’ll update all of you on Hook’s condition then.”

As the doctor left the room, Emma felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her.

“I think I’ll get going,” she said. “I want to see Henry and I think the three of you should get some rest.”

“Alright, sweetie.” Mary Margaret gave her a knowing smile. “If he wakes up, be sure to tell Killian we said hello.”

Emma barely resisted rolling her eyes.

“You heard Whale,” she said. “Hook’ll be knocked out on painkillers all night. I’m going home.”

“Emma,” her mother chided softly. “Don’t you at least want to see him before you leave?”

Emma’s mouth set into a grim line and she shook her head.

“No.” Leaning down she pressed a kiss against the baby’s forehead and another on her mother’s soft cheek.

“I’m going home, Mom.”

Mary Margaret recognized the fear and denial masking itself as stubbornness on her daughter’s face and brushed her own lips against Emma’s cheek.

“Make sure you get something to eat,” she ordered.

A tiny smile trembled at the corners of Emma’s mouth. Untangling herself from her mother’s grasp, she straightened and found herself immediately folded into David’s warm embrace.

“Take my truck.” He pressed his keys into her hand. “I’m going to spend the night here with your mother and the baby. You can return it when you bring Henry to visit tomorrow morning.”

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he dipped his head and stared into her eyes.

“You did great, today, you understand? I’m so proud of you. If you need anything, Emma… _anything_ , you give me a call and I’ll come. Okay?”

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard to get past the lump forming in her throat as her father pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Clutching the keys tightly in one hand, she wrapped the other around the door handle and tugged it open. Pausing, she turned her head and looked back. Her father was perched on the bed, his arms wrapped around Mary Margaret and the baby. She had a flash that, once upon a time, they must have held her just as tightly, just as lovingly.

Her mother’s smile reflected her own bittersweet feelings as she wrapped her fingers around the baby’s arm and waggled it in his first wave.

“Bye-bye,” she sing-songed.

Emma had worried over the last weeks and months that she might feel jealousy when the baby arrived but instead she felt blessed. Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she blew a kiss.

“See you tomorrow.”

TBC

 


	3. Three

Chapter Three

Hook stared listlessly toward the window, the soft rain falling outside the perfect companion to his mood.  The second morning being confined to the hospital bed left him feeling edgy and restless. Lying about with nothing to do gave him too much time alone with his thoughts.

A cheerful young nurse had shown him how to use the television remote but his head ached too much to put up with the jittery moving pictures and blaring noise of the contraption. Instead, he lay in the quiet gloom, thinking and waiting…

A tapping sound near the door had his hopes soaring but it was David’s face that poked around the curtain surrounding the bed and not his daughter’s.

“Feel like some visitors?” David asked before wheeling his wife and son into the room.

Mary Margaret’s face was radiant in a way Killian had never seen in the past, all of the stress and worry having fallen away with the elimination of the witch’s threat against her family and the safe return of her son.

Killian gallantly struggled to sit up at the sight of the princess but his injuries combined with the various tubes and wires tethering him to the bed made it difficult.

“Here.” David reached over his wife’s head and pressed a mechanism on the rail of the bed. It whirred to life, raising Killian to a more upright position. The pirate blinked in surprise.

“Didn’t anyone show you how to use this?” David asked.

Killian shook his head, fingers skimming over the buttons lightly making the bed raise further still.

“The one beneath it will lower the bed,” the prince pointed out helpfully.

“Thank you, mate.”

A flush of embarrassment stained Hook’s cheeks as once again his difficulty fitting into this world was made evident.

“We wanted to stop by to see if there was anything you needed – maybe a nice bowl of Jello?” Mary Margaret suggested with a devilish grin in an attempt to pull attention from Hook’s obvious discomfort.

“M’lady may be the fairest of them all, but her wit is wicked indeed,” Hook parried with a ghost of his trademark smirk curving his lips. “I thank you, no,” he said with a feigned shudder. “I cannot think of a single food in nature so violently colored nor one which jiggles in so disturbing a manner.”

Mary Margaret laughed, pleased to have lightened the mood.

“Does the lad have a name yet?” Killian poked a finger toward the babe staring owlishly about with a wide, blurry gaze.

“Not yet,” David said.

“Would you like to hold him?” Mary Margaret extended her arms and the baby toward him.

Killian shied away with an emphatic shake of his head and held up his damaged arm. “I dare not risk it.”

She graced him with a soft smile of understanding.

A chatter of voices in the hallway had Killian looking expectantly toward the door, failing seconds later to mask his disappointment as the voices drifted away.

“Looking for Emma?” Mary Margaret asked with a knowing smile. “She’s home with Henry. The baby and I are leaving today and Henry wanted to decorate the loft before we get there.” The princess cocked her head to one side. “Didn’t she tell you?”

Something in the pirate’s tense posture sent warning bells clanging in Mary Margaret’s head.

“Hook… has Emma been to see you at all?”

Hectic color rose in Killian’s cheeks.

“No. But considering what I have done, who can fault her?”

Unable to make eye contact with either David or Mary Margaret, Hook pretended a sudden fascination with the blanket over his legs, picking idly at a loose thread.

“What exactly is it that you think you did?” David asked.

“Is it really necessary that I say it aloud, mate?” he asked, eyes flashing with resentment.

“Yes,” David replied calmly. “I think, perhaps, it is.”

Killian swallowed hard and blew out a long breath.

“As you will.  I stole her magic.”

The words were like bitter ash as he remembered the look of fear and devastation in Emma’s eyes when he awoke in the barn.

“No. That’s not-” Mary Margaret turned to her husband. “David, I think you better tell him what really happened.”

“What do you remember?” David asked.

Hook rubbed his fingers across his aching forehead.

“I remember the witch’s fingers digging into my chest,” he said slowly. “I remember the panic on Emma’s face and in her voice. I knew she was going to give Zelena what she wanted and I thought maybe I could turn the tables on  the witch and use her magic against her.

He rubbed a thumb over the blistered skin of his lips.

“There was an intense heat and excruciating pain and then nothing until I awoke to find Emma leaning over me with a devastated look on her face and I knew that she had lost her power because she kissed me.”

“Your plan did work to some degree,” David explained. “Trying to use the curse against her was a smart move. It didn’t take Zelena’s powers, but it weakened her for a short period which was enough time for Emma and Regina to work together to get an edge on her.”

“And when Regina took the jewel from around her sister’s neck, Zelena lost all of her magical powers, including the spell she cursed you with,” Mary Margaret finished.

Hook’s gaze darted from Mary Margaret’s face to David’s and back again.

“So Emma still has…”

They nodded and Killian sagged back against the pillows and lifted a trembling hand to cover his face. Mary Margaret and David watched in sympathetic silence as they bore witness to Hook’s desperate bid to regain control.

After several long moments, Killian lowered his hand.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “Thinking that I had been the instrument used against Emma was a terrible burden.”

Mary Margaret had known for some time that the pirate harboured feelings for her daughter and she had never been sure how she felt about it; never wholly comfortable trusting him. But knowing of his selfless actions in the confrontation with Zelena and witnessing such a naked and raw display of emotion from him, she knew without doubt that he loved Emma.

“Twice now you’ve risked everything to bring my children safely back to me.” She laid a gentle hand on his. “That is not something I shall ever forget. I’m in your debt, Killian. You need only to ask and if it is in my power to do, I will.”

“You are very gracious, m’lady, but we both know that my motivations were not wholly selfless.

Killian lifted her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

“You owe me nothing.”

“It’s unlike you to be so modest, Captain,” Mary Margaret noted with an arch of her brow and a smile - every inch of her the regal princess. Reaching up, she laid her fingers on David’s hand where it rested on her shoulder.

“We gave Emma up when she was a baby out of love.” Tears glittered on Mary Margaret’s lashes. “And even though we’ve got her back - part of her is still lost. But, Killian… you were dead and now you aren’t. There is only one kind of magic powerful enough to thwart death.”

She closed her eyes and one tear escaped to slide down her cheek.

“If you won’t allow me to repay you with a favor, then let me at least give you this. My daughter is in love with you, though she’s terrified to admit it. Please. Please don’t give up on her.”

Relaxing back into the chair, she glanced up at her husband and tipped her head toward the door.

“Let us know if you need anything… mate.” David smiled over his shoulder as he wheeled his wife and son from the room.

Killian sank back against the pillows with a sigh. He knew that Mary Margaret had meant her words as a kindness, as an offer of hope. But he could not forget the look of fear and unhappiness on Emma’s face when he first regained consciousness and her absence since then spoke volumes.

It may have been a kiss of true love which had awakened him, but he knew all too well from personal experience that true love did not always lead to a happy ending.

TBC

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was short but it seemed like a good place to break. My guess is one more chapter to wrap it up.


	4. Four

I honestly have no clue where Hook is living now that the Jolly Roger is gone.  Let’s assume he’s got a room at Granny’s.

 

Chapter Four

Panting, Killian stopped on the first landing to catch his breath. Whale had assured him that the lingering effects of the hypoxemia would be temporary but it was disheartening to find himself gasping for breath after so little exertion. Dashing his arm over his forehead to mop up the perspiration dampening his brow, he closed his eyes and tried to remember the man who could scamper up the rigging of a tall ship or nimbly climb a beanstalk. Feeling every one of his three hundred plus years, he tiredly contemplated the dozen steps still to be scaled. Sucking in a deep breath, he wrapped his fingers around the railing and lifted a booted foot onto the first riser. So focused was he on each step and the increasing toll it took on his breathing, he did not hear a door open and close on the floor above, nor the sound of approaching footsteps. It was her familiar scent and startled gasp that drew his attention upwards.

“Hook!” Emma was frozen in place, one foot dangling in mid-air above the first step. Her lips were shaped in a tiny circle of surprise at the unexpected sight of him on the stairs below.

“I didn’t know… when did you… are you -” Her words trailed off and a flush of embarrassment stained her cheeks as she was suddenly confronted with the man she had all but abandoned in recent days.

An expression of intense longing crossed Killian’s face before he schooled his features into an impassive mask. “M’lady,” he intoned mockingly. Bending at the waist and sweeping out one arm with a gallant flourish, he turned to the side to allow her room to pass.

“No. Please.” She stepped back and gestured for him to continue up.

Cursing the fates that she should be here to witness his frailty, he ground his molars together and dragged himself up the next step. Compassion melted away Emma’s own embarrassment.

“Let me help you.” She clattered down the steps, wincing when she felt him flinch away from her touch.

“I’m sorry.” Her words were muffled against his arm as she buried her face in his shoulder. “Please, let me help you.” Wrapping her arm around his waist, she assisted him up the remaining steps.

He lurched toward his room and the welcome promise of the relief of being able to hide inside, and he dug a single key from his pocket. “Bloody hell,” he whispered. His hand trembled, preventing him from inserting the key into the lock. His head fell against the door with an audible thunk as his failure to accomplish so small a task frustrated him.

“Here.” Emma’s fingers closed over his. “Let me help.”

She slipped the key from his nerveless fingers and slid it into the lock. The door fell open beneath his hand and he stumbled inside to collapse into a chair. She followed him, the door closing behind her with a tiny snick of sound. Her eyes wandered around the small, almost spartan room. Killian sat in the lone cushioned chair near the window. She saw a door leading to the bathroom and an iron framed bed in another corner. The bed was carefully made - indeed, everything in the room was neatly stored away with the exception of a teetering tower of books stacked on the small table near the bed.

Her gaze finally came to rest again on Killian, taking a moment to study him as he stared sightlessly through the window. Dark shadows bruised the skin beneath his eyes and new lines were carved onto either side of his mouth. His face was abnormally pale and he slumped bonelessly into the chair, exhaustion evident in every line of his body.

She cast about desperately for something to break the tension.

“Nice outfit.” She faintly smiled at the incongruous sight of the fearsome pirate captain clad in a set of pale blue cotton hospital scrubs.

He glanced down, his lips quirking in a self-mocking grin.

“I think the boots give it a certain flair,” he said, jutting out one foot. “It seems they were compelled to cut my clothing from me when I was brought into the hospital. A nurse was kind enough to allow me to borrow these.”

The amusement died from her face as she realized that he had been forced to wear the scrubs because no one - because _she_ \- had not thought to bring a change of clothes to the hospital.

He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable spot. Face contorting into a grimace, a soft gasp escaped him as pain lanced through his still-healing ribs, stealing his breath.

Jolted by his obvious discomfort, Emma moved toward him. “Didn’t they send you home with anything for the pain?”

“Aye. They gave me something.” He dug a scrap of paper from the breast pocket of his scrubs. “I assume it’s some kind of incantation I am supposed to perform ‘every four to six hours as needed’, but I’ll be damned if I can read the bloody thing!”

She took the paper from him and unfolded it. A grin trembled at the corner of her mouth as she read the barely legible scrawl.

“This isn’t a spell, Killian. It’s a prescription for pain medication. You have to buy it at a drug store.”

His face heated. This world and its strange ways exhausted him, making him all too aware of how badly out of place he was in this realm. There was very little that was familiar to him here. The foods, the clothing, the casual manner of speech and most of all the technology were like a foreign language to him. He sometimes felt as a tree torn from a misty mountain forest and transplanted into the stifling heat of a desert - unable to sink deep roots and wilting in a hostile environment.

“I can take it and pick up the medication for you.” She tucked the scrap of paper into one of her pockets. “How did you get home?” Shame flooded through her. Her fears over the intensity of her feelings had caused her to abandon him so fully that she didn’t even think about how or when he would get home from the hospital.

“Smee was kind enough to collect me and deliver me here.”

“Oh,” she said inanely. “Good.  That’s good.”

An awkward silence fell over them. Emma shifted miserably from one foot to the other as Killian’s gaze drifted back to the window. His fingers idly played over the hair roughened skin exposed by the open “V” of the scrub top before lowering to settle protectively over the curve of his stump. Something about the gesture sparked a memory and Emma sprang to life.

“I’ll be right back.”

He watched with surprise as she disappeared through the door.

Emma hurried to the rooms she shared with Henry. Yanking open a closet door, she snatched up a plastic bag by its handles and tugged down the leather coat hanging inside. The coat was well-worn and buttery soft with age. She held it to her face and inhaled the delicious scents of old leather and Killian. Folding the coat neatly over her arm, she returned to his room.

The sound of the door creaking open drew his gaze toward her.

“I have something for you.” Emma raised her arms to show him the coat before draping it on the hook nailed to the back of the door. In her hand she carried a white bag emblazoned with the logo he had come to associate with the hospital. Squatting on the floor near his feet, she dug into the bag, drawing forth his hook and placing it in his lap.

Killian breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of the metal appendage which had become as familiar to him over the years as his own flesh and blood. Lost in thought, he stroked a finger over the leather brace and the straps used to secure the hook to his arm and did not see her reach into the bag again.

She leaned closer and took his hand, pouring his rings into his palm, and then carefully draped the heavy silver chain around his neck. He fisted a possessive hand over the medallions, comforted by their familiar weight around his neck.

“How did you come to have these in your possession?” he wondered.

She sat back on her heels and shrugged, pleased to see some life in his blue eyes.

“Hospitals always give personal property to the next-of-k-” Embarrassed, she bit off her instinctive response.

“To the next-of-kin.” A spark of hope flared to life but was quickly extinguished with her next words.

“It’s no big deal,” she said quickly. “I was there when you were brought into the emergency room and everyone knows we’re friends…”

He knew that it was her own fears which pushed her to cruelty, but her words were still a slap to the face. “I see.” His voice was heavy with disappointment. “I thank you for keeping them safe.” He spoke quickly to fill the uncomfortable silence. “I have not many of my own personal items in this realm. Most were lost with the ship.”

“Lost with the…” Emma sat on the floor realizing for the first time that she had not seen Hook’s ship since he brought her and Henry back to Storybrooke.

“Killian,” she asked worriedly. “What happened to the _Jolly Roger_?”

“Have you never wondered how it was that I alone escaped the curse and found you in New York, love?”

“Of course I have, but there’s been so much going on since we got back… I - I never asked. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I’m sorry.” She propped her chin against her knees. “Will you tell me now? How _did_ you get to me?”

He toyed with the silver hook, stroking his fingers over the smooth curve and testing the sharpness of the point with the pad of his thumb. “The curse was coming.” He looked up and gave a tiny shrug of his shoulder. “So I ditched my crew and took the _Jolly Roger_ as fast and far as I could to outrun it.”

“You outran a curse?” she scoffed softly.

“I’m a helluva captain.” His lips twitched into a smug smile. “Once I was outside the curse’s purview I knew the walls were down. Transport between the worlds was possible. All I needed was a magic bean.”

“Those are not easy to come by,” she pointed out.

“They are if you’ve got something of value to trade.”

“And what was that?”

“Why, the _Jolly Roger_ , of course,” he smiled and tried to inject a note of lightness into his voice as if to downplay the enormity of his sacrifice.

“You traded your ship for me?” she asked slowly, her voice shaking with disbelief.

“Aye.” Everything he felt for her was contained in that one simple word and unspoken was the promise that he would do anything to secure her safety and happiness.

She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, fingers tearing into her hair. Scrambling to her feet she shook her head in frantic denial of his obvious devotion. “You traded your home?” Nerves coiled like snakes in her belly. “Why would you _do that_? It’s too much! You _love_ that ship!”

“You’re an intelligent woman, Swan. You cannot possibly need me to spell it out for you.”

“No.” Her hands sliced through the air with frantic finality. “No. It’s too much.”

“Is it? Are you going to keep pretending that this _thing_ between us isn’t real?” he snapped. “Yes. Trading away the _Jolly Roger_ was the price I paid in order to find you. And I’ve never regretted it. A few days ago _you_ were going to sacrifice your magic for me in that barn. Are you telling me _that_ wasn’t too much?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Magic isn’t worth anyone’s life and that crazy bitch was trying to kill you!” Panicked, she spun away, rubbing a clenched fist over her chest and trying to catch her breath.

He watched her pace the confines of the room like a caged tiger and suddenly wanted nothing more than to be alone to lick his wounds in private. “I’m rather tired, Swan,” he said, visibly deflating under the weight of her obvious unhappiness. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to leave now.”

“Um… oh! Of course.” Shocked at his sudden dismissal, she stopped in mid-stride and wound her arms around herself in misery. “I’ll just… I’ll just let myself out.”

She wrapped her hand around the knob of the door, her fingers convulsing over the smooth metal. The tone of defeat and finality accompanying his words frightened her to the core. Pressing her forehead against the wood, she squeezed her eyes shut.

“You said you would never give up,” she reminded him in a voice small and scared.

“I confess that I am at a loss to understand what promise or proof you need to extract from me which I have not already freely offered, love.” His breath escaped him on a long-suffering sigh. “Surely it is evident that I have neither the strength nor the will to walk away from you - even in the face of your constant rejection.”

Emma drew upon every ounce of courage she possessed in order to turn and face him. Tears pricked her eyes at the tired and worn look on his face as he continued to speak in a beaten tone.

“Because you asked it of me, I have forsaken my vow to Milah. I have bloody well given up everything I have of value, including my pride, to your wish that I refrain from causing harm to the Crocodile.”

His chest heaved. Upon meeting Emma, hope had flared to life within him for the first time in three centuries, and for a brief period he had convinced himself that he had a right to reach for happiness rather than vengeance. But with his fading hopes, guilt over his willingness to break his promise to the woman he had once loved with all his heart weighed heavily on him.

“I have left behind the pirate and still it is not enough to make you believe,” he said, his voice curiously detached. “‘Tis strange. Despite everything that transpired between the two of you, Bae was able to regain your love and forgiveness. You have rightfully given your understanding and love to your parents. But I am made to pay for the sins of others. Every day, I pay the price for those who came before me and destroyed your ability to trust.”

His head throbbed, both from the aftereffects of the concussion he had sustained as well as from the sense that he was witnessing the final nails being driven into the coffin of his hopes.

“And yet here I remain, each day awakening to face your rejection of what we could be together.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “I am in love with you, Emma. What more would you have me do to prove so?” He raised his hand in entreaty before letting it fall back into his lap.

“Killian.” Tears streamed down her cheeks and she moved toward him. Dropping again to her knees, she laid a hand on his booted foot. He tipped his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He was an open wound where she was concerned and her touch flayed his nerves raw.

“I’ve tried not to, but… I do love you.” She pressed her face against his leg with a stifled sob.

“I know you do, lass.” He winnowed his fingers through her hair. “And it pains me to know that loving me brings you naught but sadness.”

“Loving you doesn’t make me sad.” She sagged onto the floor between his legs and rested her back against the chair, her temple pressed against his knee as she relaxed under the rhythmic strokes of his hand. “It frightens me.”

“Why?”

“Of all the people I’ve come across since Henry brought me to Storybrooke, the last person I thought I’d trust wholeheartedly was Captain Hook,” she said in a curiously faraway voice. “But you’re always there at my side when I need you most.” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “You tell me that I’m an open book to you and I know that you see through to the real me - and let’s face it, the real me is a total wreck. And yet still, you want me. It’s too good to be true. How long will it be before you decide that loving me is too much work?”

Sighing, she closed her eyes, her head lolling comfortably against his thigh as he continued his soothing ministrations.

“My only experience with love is that people always leave.”

“Aye, love. I know.” Killian’s fingers tightened in her hair.

“Are you thinking of Milah?”

His chest rose and fell on a lingering breath.

“Of Milah, yes. But also my parents. My brother…”

His words trailed off and a silence fell over them as they reflected on their losses.

“I keep expecting to turn around one day and find that you’ve gone,” she finally admitted. “And I think maybe I’ve convinced myself it would hurt less if I push you away first. Then at least when I’m left alone again, it will have been on my terms.”

“Oh, lass.  Come here.” He tugged on her hand, urging her to climb onto his lap.

“You just got out of the hospital.” She strained away from his firm grip. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“Emma. Love.” He gave her hand an insistent tug until she eased herself on his legs. She tucked her head into the curve of his shoulder and he tipped his cheek against her golden curls.

“Why push me away at all?” he asked, resuming their conversation. “Why not just trust me to stay?”

She shrugged and raised one hand to idly trace the V-neck of his shirt.

“I don’t think I know _how_ to be happy,” she admitted in a low voice. “My comfort zone lies in staying on edge. In being wary of others; of their motives. It’s how I’ve always lived. The idea of being happy freaks me out. The thought of putting my happiness in someone else’s hands scares me to the bone.”

She nestled closer and curled her fingers into the soft blue cotton covering his chest and made her final confession.

“I’m a lost girl, Killian. Frightened and weak. I put on a good show by acting like a badass but I’m not.”

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” He laid a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to his. “Flawed, aye. Stubborn and headstrong. But also brilliant, brave and beautiful. Strong and true. A devoted mother. A generous daughter.”

She turned her face into his chest and shook her head in denial of his words.

“I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m nothing special.”

“You’re wrong.” He pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “Even if you weren’t the Savior, you’d still be special. To your parents, to Henry… to me.”

He felt the negative shake of her head against his chest.

“Time and again you have been left behind in the name of love by those who wanted to protect you and do what they thought best for you. But, Swan, there’s one thing you should have already discovered about me…” He gave her hair a gentle tug until she tipped her head back to look at him.

“I am a selfish man,” he told her. “I _should_ follow the example of others and let you go for your own good - but I cannot. My need to be with you is as basic as the need for air in my lungs - I cannot survive without you. If you want me out of your life, you are going to have to be the one to walk away.”

“You love me too much.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “How can I trust that kind of devotion to last?”

“Because the other thing you should have already learned about me is that I don’t love easily, Swan, but when I do, I love fiercely.” His voice was a quiet and comforting rumble vibrating beneath her ear. “I understand your fears. When Milah left me it was as if my own heart had been torn out with hers and the memory of my love for her and the promise of revenge was all that sustained me.”

“Then why? Why open yourself up to that kind of pain again?”

“Because it’s worth it to feel alive again. I’m a different man than the one who loved Milah. It was a young man who loved her. We shared a sense of fun and adventure and I have mourned her for more lifetimes than I care to count. I have aged little physically since then but the love I have for you is the love of a man well-lived. I’m a man who has spent centuries wallowing in the darkness and at last in you I can see light. When I met you, I felt a spark of life flicker inside me and for the first time in such a painfully long time, I feel something other than hatred.”

Tears spilled over her lashes, trailing silvery paths over her cheeks.

“I’ve tried to hide from you, Killian but you keep worming your way inside. I want so badly to open myself to you, but I’m afraid.”

“I know, love. I know you’re afraid. But I am not. Because loving you, _being loved by you,_ has been my salvation. Not just from death which had finally come for me in that barn, but from the darkness which has consumed me all these many years. You saved me… and, Emma?”

He laid two fingers beneath her chin and tipped her face up to his. “I think I can save you - if you’ll give us a chance.” His chest rose and fell on a shaky exhalation of breath. “I will never leave you, Emma. If you would but allow it, I would love you to the end of my days.”

She could feel his heart pounding beneath her ear and thought of how close she had come to losing him to Zelena’s madness. Was she truly willing to lose him now - after everything - to her own fears? She loved him… was _in love_ with him. And while she was still afraid, she was not a stupid woman.

Twining her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, she drew him down and touched her mouth to his. His hand came up, lightly exerting the slightest pressure on her head to draw her closer as their lips met tentatively at first and then with growing hunger.

This was nothing like what they had shared in Neverland, Emma thought hazily. That kiss had started off as a display of bravado on her part, cockiness on his, and had quickly flared into unexpected passion. But this… this was about so much more.

Their heads slanted one way and then the other as their mouths moved together. Learning. Tasting. Wanting. Slow and wet. Playful nibbles and deep explorations.

She felt his hand slide from her hair, his fingers curling under her jaw, thumb on her chin, holding her in place as his mouth roved greedily over hers. Opening her eyes, she pulled back slightly, taking in the masculine beauty of his face - the dark crescents of his lashes resting against the flushed skin of his cheeks. Those lashes fluttered apart and she couldn’t help the grin that curved her lips as she stared into those blue, blue eyes.

Killian grinned back before swooping in again, wanting to taste all the flavors of her smile.

She shifted in his lap, straddling him, her thighs hugging his as she rose to her knees above him and he tipped his head back to accommodate the new angle. His teeth playfully nipped the plump fullness of her bottom lip before his tongue swept out to soothe away the tiny sting and she moaned in response.

Impatient heat balled low in her belly and she was struck with the sudden need to get her hands on him. Now. Forehead pressed to his, she curled her fingers into the hem of the blue cotton of his borrowed shirt and began to shove it up his torso. “Arms up,” she demanded impatiently and eager to obey, Killian obligingly raised his arms over his head as she insistently pushed his shirt toward his chin.

Wincing, he bit back a pained gasp as the stretched and torn ligaments in his shoulder vehemently protested the unexpected movement.

“Sorry!” She scrambled from his lap, hands hovering impotently over him. “Oh, God. I hurt you. I’m so sorry!” she babbled helplessly.

“I’m fine, love.” He gave her a reassuring look as the pain slowly ebbed.

“I’ll go and get that pain medication for you right now.” She patted her pocket with the prescription and his hand shot out to wrap around her wrist as she took a step toward the door.

“I’m _fine_ , Swan.” He tugged on her hand in an attempt to pull her back onto his lap, afraid that if he let her go now she would spend the time away coming up with a million reason why this - why _they_ \- were a bad idea. “Come back,” he urged.

She let him pull her closer but resisted his attempt to draw her back into his embrace. Planting the soles of her shoes on the floor, she wrapped her other hand around his wrist and rocked back onto her heels to draw him to his feet.

Obeying her silent command, he rose and took the final step to close the distance between them. He wrapped his damaged arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his body, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

“Emma. My Emma,” he crooned and pressed his lips to the pulse fluttering madly beneath her jaw.

Leaning against his supportive arm, she tipped her head back and smiled into his eyes, then, tangling her fingers with his, she led him across the small room to the narrow bed tucked into one corner and pushed him down. He sat on the edge of the mattress and she stepped between his knees. Framing his face between her palms, she stroked her thumbs over his cheeks, dipping into the dimpled grooves hiding in his beard. Bewitched by the love shining in his eyes, she felt her heart roll over in her chest.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured softly and smiled as his cheeks flushed beneath her hands.

“ _You’re_ beautiful,” he emphasized. “I’m -”

“Dashing.” She laughingly corrected herself. “Devilishly handsome.”

“Better,” he approved with a twinkle in his eyes. Stretching toward her, he tangled his fingers in her hair and drew her down to meet his kiss.

She fell to her knees between his legs, humming contentedly as his mouth closed over hers. The kiss rapidly shifted from languid to impatient and once again she moved to gather up the hem of his shirt in her eager fingers.

“Carefully,” she cautioned as she pushed the shirt over his chest. Guiding his head and good arm from the shirt, she eased the fabric over his injured shoulder and tossed it to the floor. A frown creased her brow as she took in the sight of the multitude of bruises blooming over his torso in a mottled rainbow of blues and blacks, of greens and yellows. A mournful sound caught in her throat and she leaned forward to press her lips against the worst, brushing her mouth gently over his ribs and the ball of his shoulder.

He shuddered beneath her caresses. Each touch of her lips against his damaged flesh ignited a burning arousal while the dampness of her tears was the balm of a benediction.

“My love.” He cupped a hand over the nape of her neck and drew her lips to his in a tender kiss. When she eased away, several strands of her hair caught on his mouth - a golden thread binding them together briefly until she raised a hand to stroke it away. He turned his head, capturing her thumb between his lips and sucked it into the wet heat of his mouth.

Shaken by the intensity of his gaze, she slid her glistening thumb from his mouth, curling it protectively in her fist for a heartbeat. Unbearably aroused she stroked trembling hands over his torso. His was not the body of a modern day man whose build was honed in a gym. Instead, skin burnished a light gold from years spent under the sun’s glare was stretched over a leanly muscled physique earned through the hard, physical labor of lifetimes spent manning the deck of a ship at sea. His stomach muscles quivered beneath her eager hands as they glided over his ribs and abdomen, short nails combing through the whorls of dark hair covering his pectorals, her still-damp thumb glancing over one flat nipple hidden beneath. He gasped, and the hand wrapped around the nape of her neck tightened when she leaned forward to rasp her tongue over the other.

“Swan,” he groaned, his cheek falling forward to rest against the golden crown of her head. “Swan.”

He pushed his hand against her shoulder and this time it was she who groaned at the sudden loss of contact between them as his fingers tugged at the fabric of her white shirt.

“Off.” He growled at the ridiculously tiny row of buttons which marched down the front of her shirt, defying his one-handed efforts to help her disrobe. He glanced with frustration at his hook which was lying on the chair on the other side of the room as he pictured himself using it to quickly tear the offending buttons out of his way.

“Take this bloody thing off,” he demanded and rather than risk the destruction of her clothing, she made quick work of the buttons. He let out a low sigh when she shrugged the blouse from her shoulders and reached out to stroke gentle fingers over the soft swells of her breasts where they rose above the lacy cups of her bra. He slid from the edge of the bed to kneel on the floor beside her and lowering his mouth to her breast, he traced a lazy path along the handful of freckles scattered over her bare skin, playing a sensual game of connect-the-dots with his tongue. A shudder wracked her frame and her hands clutched his arms for support.

“Again,” she whispered.

He slanted a look at her through hooded lashes and held her gaze as his tongue traced a return journey over her skin before he ducked his head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to first one breast and then the other, the moist heat of his mouth dampening the sheer lace and drawing her nipples into tight peaks.

“As lovely as your breasts look displayed in this little lace corset…” He raised his head and dipped one finger beneath the scalloped edge of her bra, “I believe turnabout is fair play.” He indicated his own state of partial undress and arched a meaningful brow.

She reached behind her back and popped open the clasp then crossed her arms coyly over her breasts to hold the bra in place. Killian brushed his fingers over one shoulder, pushing away the strap and used his teeth to tug at the other. He looked up at her through an errant lock of hair which had tumbled over his brow as the straps sagged toward the crook of her elbows and skimmed his lips over the upper curves of breasts plumped up by the protective fold of her arms. She dropped her arms to her sides and the scrap of lace followed, drifting to the floor.

Emma threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close and they sighed in mutual pleasure at the first touch of bare skin to bare skin. She shifted slightly, enjoying the sensation of his hair-roughened chest abrading her own delicate flesh, admitted to herself that she had fantasized about doing precisely this from practically the first moment she had seen the dark hair scattered over his chest exposed by the perpetually open collars of his shirts

He tightened his arms around her hips, reveling in the simple act of being allowed to hold her and the tentative sense of joy geysering inside him.

“Let’s…” She pulled away and sat on the bed. Kicking off her shoes, she swung her legs up and stretched out on the mattress. “C’mere.” She nestled her head into a pillow and beckoned him toward her with an inviting crook of one finger.

His chest expanded on a long breath and he sat beside her and wrestled the boots from his feet before lying down. He ignored the flare of pain in his shoulder and propped himself on an elbow, leaning down to touch his lips to hers in an achingly tender kiss. Burying his face in the fragrant column of her throat, he skimmed one finger in a straight line between breasts, feeling her shiver as he traced a circle around her navel, his thumb dipping briefly into the little hollow before moving to flick open the button of his jeans. Two fingers slipped inside to flirt with the lacy fabric hidden beneath the heavy denim.

Shifting lower on the bed, he closed his mouth over one breast, smiling against the plump flesh at the sound of the gasp escaping her lips when he scraped the calloused pad of his thumb over her delicate skin. He twisted slightly to shower the other breast with the same attention and winced as pain tore through his shoulder. Gasping, he flopped onto his back and threw one arm over his face with a frustrated grunt.

Emma carefully crawled over his prone body and stretched out along his uninjured side. She propped herself on one elbow and took a moment to study him, noting the twisted and badly scarred flesh left behind after the brutal amputation of his hand and the half-healed finger-shaped bruises hidden in the dark hair over his heart. She leaned forward to press her mouth over the bruises and then rested her cheek against his chest, comforted by the steady beat beneath her ear. After a long, quiet moment, she rose up and wrapped her hand around his forearm.

“Hey.” She tugged his arm away from his face, peeking beneath it as his eyes flickered open.

“My apologies, lass. It would appear I am not quite as healed as I had hoped.” His cheeks were stained red with embarrassment and she realized that he viewed his injury-related weakness as an affront to his manhood.

“We could always just neck.” Her brows waggled comically as she sought to lighten the mood.

“Neck?”

“Yeah. You know, play tonsil hockey, tongue wrestle… make out.” She winked and shot him a deliberately suggestive leer as she laughingly reeled off one silly euphemism after another.

He rolled his eyes. “Swan, once again your peculiar manner of speech is incomprehensible to me.” He smiled fondly and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear.

“Making out is just touching… kissing… groping… fondling…” She punctuated each word with a kiss and a caress, “...without actually, you know... um…” She made a vague gesture toward his groin and her own with another intentionally lascivious smirk.

“It sounds bloody frustrating,” he observed with a winking smile of his own.

“Yeah,” she grinned. “But in a _really_ sweaty fun kind of way.”

She plopped her head onto his good shoulder and crooked one leg over his thighs. Her fingers toyed with the silver medallions glinting against the dark hair on his chest and she sighed happily as his hand ghosted along the hollow of her spine before dipping below the loosened waist of her jeans to palm the rounded flesh beneath.

“Besides,” she breathed contentedly. “We have the rest of our lives together.”

She heard his breath catch in his throat and felt his heartbeat slam against his chest.

“Is that so, love?” he asked in a carefully modulated voice.

Mindful of his injuries, Emma stacked her fists on his chest and propped her chin on them.

“I saved your life with a _kiss_ ,” she pointed out gravely. “Even I know what that means.”

“And what precisely is that?” he asked hoarsely, a pleading look in his eyes.

“It means you belong to me, and -” She stretched forward to press her mouth to his, “I belong to you.”

“Forever?” he asked against her lips.

“Forever... and ever.”

And opening her mouth to his, they sealed it with a kiss.

End


End file.
